On the Doorstep
by Sus
Summary: On the doorstep. Quite basically this is text from the last third of the Hobbit, but Bagginshielded up a little. I do not claim Tolkein's text as my own, only my own fevered imaginings.


"Now you are for it at last, Bilbo Baggins," he said to himself, "You went and put your foot right into it that night of the party, and now you have got to pull it out and pay for it! Dear me, what a fool I was and am! To fall in love with a dwarf!" said the least Tookish part of him. "I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures, and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only it would all be the same to him, and we could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home!"

He did not wake up of course, but went still on and on, until all sign of the door behind had faded away. He was altogether alone. Soon he thought he was beginning to feel warm.

It was now undoubtedly hot in the tunnel. Wisps of vapour floated up and past him and he began to sweat. A sound, too, the unmistakeable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its sleep down there in the red glow in front of him. It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did - or perhaps the second bravest. The bravest thing however he did for love - he fought this battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the danger that lay in wait. At any rate after a short halt go on he did; and you can picture him coming to the end of the tunnel, an opening of much the same size and shape as the door above.

Before him lies the great bottom-most cellar or dungeon-hall of the ancient dwarvesright at the Mountain's root. It is almost dark so that its vastness can only be dimly guessed, but rising from the near side of the rocky floor there is a great glow. The glow of Smaug!

There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; a thrumming came from his jaws and nostrilsm, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Stretching away across the unseen floor lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light.

To say that Bilbo's breath was taken away is no description at all. There are no words left to express his staggerment, since Men changed the language they learned of elves in the days when all the world was wonderful. Bilbo had heard tell and sing of dragon-hoards before, but the splendour, the glory and the lust of such treasure had never yet come home to him. His heart was filled and pierced with enchantment and with the desire of dwarves; and he gazed motionless, almost forgetting the frightful guardian, at the gold beyond price and count. He felt he understood Thorin now in a way he had not before, and a red glow of his own rose to his cheeks as he thought of some of the things Thorin had whispered to him about this treasure, and what they would do surrounded by it, in the secret night.

He gazed for what seemed an age, before drawn almost against his will, he stole from the shadow of the doorway, across the floor to the nearest edge of the mound of treasure. Above him the sleeping dragon lay, a dire menace even in his sleep. He grasped a great two-handled cup, as heavy as he could carry, and cast one fearful eye upwards. Smaug stirred a wing, opened a claw, the rumble of his snoring changed its note.

Then Bilbo fled. But the dragon did not wake - not yet.

The little hobbit toiled back up the tunnel. His heart was beating and a more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down, but still he clutched the cup, and his chief thought was "I've done it! This will show them. 'More like a grocer than a burglar' indeed! Well, we'll hear no more of that."

Nor did he. Balin was overjoyed to see the hobbit again, and as delighted as he was surprised. He picked Bilbo up and carried him into the open air. It was midnight and clouds had covered the stars, but Bilbo stood with his eyes shut, gasping and taking pleasure in the feel of the fresh air again, and hardly notcing the excitement of the dwarves, until he opened his eyes again and met the piercing blue gaze of the King Under the Mountain.

Thorin rushed forward, took Bilbo into his arms and swept him round in a joyful embrace, spinning him off his feet and laughing. "I'm afraid I've been guilty of doubting you again, Bilbo!" he laughed, "But I see now I should not have been so worried. You're safe, my burglar, my thief, my hobbit."

They came to a standstill and he pulled Bilbo close, the two of them hardly noticing the excitement of the Company as the dwarves passed the cup from hand to hand, praising Bilbo and putting temselves and all their families for generations to come at Bilbo's service.

"We're close to our goal as never before." Thorin said solemnly, his face close to Bilbo's, "And the fear I felt when you went from me down that noisome tunnel alone has made me realise that I want you to share in my victory. Will you stay with me, in Erebor, at least a little while? There will be work to do, rebuilding, and I feel in my heart that having you with me will make it seem no true toil at all. I would give you gifts and treasures beyond anything."

Bilbo laughed, from fright as much as joy. He certainly couldn't fault the romance of the situation - a proposal atop a dragon-guarded mountain at midnight under the moon, on Durin's day with all a Dwarf-King's treasure as a bridal gift, it certainly knocked his cousin Lobelia's boasts (of a real rose bouquet on the Bywater bridge with a groom who only needed three pints of ale to pluck up his courage) into a cocked hat.

"Yes! I should say - I mean to say - I mean to say yes!" said Bilbo, stumbling over his words a little. "I only feel conscious that I', not worthy of such an honour."

Thorin embraced him again. "You are worthy, Mr Baggins, of this and other honours..." and he began to whisper the things that brought the dragon-fire to Bilbo's cheeks once more.  



End file.
